Inside the Blood Oath Society's altar, a young man was working diligently.
Countless candles hung from the altar's dome, their faint light flickering in the air, casting mottled shadows.
The candlelight illuminated the altar's stone walls, outlining ancient reliefs, and the carved holy images seemed to watch everyone who entered.
The air was filled with a faint scent of incense and herbs, mixed with an indescribable sense of solemnity.
His figure appeared particularly thin in the dim light, yet it exuded a sense of tenacity and unyielding spirit.
Though his movements were slightly clumsy due to his mechanical prosthetics, every detail revealed an almost obsessive focus.
Whether wiping the altar's stone steps or arranging the sacred artifacts on the altar, his movements were meticulous.
He looked young, barely in his early twenties, with one arm and one leg replaced by mechanical prosthetics, reflecting a metallic sheen in the candlelight, as if narrating his past.
His face bore several scars, as if he had experienced brutal battles, each scar like a medal carved into his life.
Despite being covered in scars, his eyes were still clear, with a youthful vitality unique to his age.
In those eyes, there was both hope for the future and acceptance of the past.
He wore a Defense Force uniform, which, though old and heavily worn, was clean and meticulously mended in torn places, showing he cherished the garment.
Traces of battle still lingered on the uniform, but whenever he looked down to straighten his collar, a hint of nostalgia and pride would flash in his eyes.
That uniform was not just a piece of clothing; it was a symbol of his former glory and responsibility.
"Paul, could you please help move this box of healing potions to the warehouse in the back?" a Sister called out to him, her voice gentle yet with a hint of urgency.
The Sister's figure appeared exceptionally soft in the candlelight; she held a thick scripture in her hands, but her gaze remained on Paul, with a touch of concern.
Her robe was embroidered with the Blood Oath Society's emblem, a blood-red thorn wreath, symbolizing the Society's faith and mission.
Beside the Sister was a rather heavy-looking box, filled with bottles and jars of healing potions, which were daily supplies needed for the altar.
Paul quickly walked over, greeted the Sister, a shy smile on his face, and responded in a low but respectful voice: "Of course, Sister, I'll go right away."
With that, he bent down and steadily lifted the box with his mechanical prosthetic and his intact arm.
Although the weight of the box made him frown slightly, he showed no complaint, merely adjusted his posture, and then walked with determined steps towards the warehouse behind the altar.
The joints of his mechanical prosthetic made a slight sound, as if they needed oiling.
Paul didn't mind; after moving the box to the warehouse and putting it away, he returned to his busy work at the altar.
It wasn't until dusk that Paul bid farewell to the altar's priests and Sisters, leaving to return to his residence.
Paul was a retired Defense Force veteran; despite being only in his early twenties, he had already served four years in the Defense Force and even passed the Xenos Hunter assessment, only retiring due to a disabling injury.
In fact, with the Imperium's technology, let alone losing an arm or a leg, even if one lost their heart, liver, spleen, lungs, and kidneys, the Adeptus Mechanicus could fabricate a new set for you, with choices between mechanical and bio-implants.
If you could afford it, there would be no problem for the Adeptus Mechanicus to give you a full mechanical ascension, making you even more formidable than an Astartes.
Even Tech-Priests are very willing to do so; apart from a few conservatives who pursue pure flesh, the vast majority of the Adeptus Mechanicus are cyborg enthusiasts who pursue mechanical ascension to the point of even modifying their own brains.
But I digress. Speaking of Paul's status and merits in the Defense Force, he could have continued to stay in the military after undergoing prosthetic modification.
After all, for both the Defense Force and the Astra Militarum, experienced veterans are extremely valuable; simply put, one veteran is worth ten raw recruits.
Even if Paul felt he was no longer suitable for frontline combat units, he could have gone to logistics or the recruit camp; in any case, he could have continued to stay in the Defense Force.
But Paul was unwilling; he always felt that he shouldn't cling to the military after being injured and disabled.
So, after receiving a severance pay, he left the Defense Force.
His choice puzzled many, but for Paul, it was a matter of his own conviction.
He would rather find an ordinary job and support himself than rely on the military's protection.
However, late at night, Paul would sit in his small room, gently polishing his Defense Force emblem.
The Aquila on the emblem still shone brightly, as if reminding him of his past glory and responsibility.
He also always prayed silently in his heart, hoping that he could continue to contribute to the Imperium under this starry sky, even if it was just a tiny bit.
And the opportunity quickly arrived; not long after Paul retired from the Defense Force, someone approached him.
Because of his excellent service record, the Governor's Office recruited him as a secret agent.
Joining the Blood Oath Society's altar and understanding the Society's operations was the task given to him by the Governor's Office.
Paul didn't understand why, but he still followed the Governor's Office's instructions to join the Blood Oath Society and investigate the internal situation of the Society.
The Blood Oath Society's operations are quite simple: the Society's priests and Sisters are responsible for diagnosing and treating patients, while also collecting blood from healthy individuals; this blood is then pooled, refined, and processed, finally being made into blood potions or pure plasma for medical aid.
There was nothing covert about the entire process; even a laborer like Paul, who had just joined the Society, could easily understand the entire procedure.
If there was anything that seemed problematic, it might be that the Society collected a significant amount of plasma, but the amount of blood potions and pure plasma obtained after processing was very small, only about one-tenth of the total plasma.
However, this might just be normal loss; Paul was not clear, as after each processing, the originally turbid and impure plasma would become pure and vibrant, its color becoming like a dazzling flame, which made him feel that perhaps there was the Great Emperor's divine power blessing it.
But he did not let this thought influence his judgment; he still truthfully recorded all the information he observed and reported it without any personal subjective judgment or emotion.
He knew that his task was only to observe and provide the most detailed intelligence to the Governor's Office, and he did not need to add any unnecessary information himself.
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